


“Don’t worry, we have a spare.”

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Crack, Gen, Murder, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-20
Updated: 2009-08-20
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reason Dethklok seems invincible. The reason Murderface often threatens to kill himself. <br/>Yes, I’m going to kill people, but not in an “oh god no” kind of way. And everything will all work out just fine, so don’t be scared.<br/>Warnings: character death, “suicide”, and OC reporter. Also vaguely implied necrophilia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“Don’t worry, we have a spare.”

Charles Ofdensen was in his office, conducting what he hoped was a very dry and boring interview with some lady reporter. He hated talking to the press, but occasionally he seemed to find himself doing it anyway. He answered her questions in the most robotic manner that he could muster, and despite her repeated requests, refused to let her speak to the band.  
It seemed to be working, she looked like she was running out of questions fast.  
Any minute now she would give up and go away, and life as usual could resume.  
“Well Mr. Ofdensen, thank you for your time. I hope-“

Suddenly the door flew open, and Pickles burst in. “Afdensen! Toki jest fell aff tha dragon’s head! I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”  
“Pickles! What have I told you about this sort of thing?”  
Pickles looked around, finally noticing the reporter lady. “Ah shit, I’m sahrry. I know, I know, ya said ta jest call ya.”  
Charles also glanced at the reporter, noticing her expression. Oh well, she’d heard, there was nothing he could do to change that. “Are you sure he’s dead?”  
“Well... I didn’t check ‘em personally, but Nathan said he was. Ya comin’?”

Charles got up, motioning for the reporter to do the same. She might as well come along, it was already too late, so seeing more would make no difference.   
They followed Pickles outside, where the others were standing around what was left of Toki.   
No point even checking for a pulse, so Charles just pulled out his phone. “We need another Toki. Yes. Well hurry up, and send him to the rec room.” He pointed to a couple nearby gears. “You and you. Get rid of this.”  
They obediently scraped up the body and carried it away.  
They all headed back inside, leaving the frantically scribbling reporter to trail along behind them.

They arrived just in time to see Toki walk in the other door. He looked embarrassed.  
“Toki, what have I told you about doing reckless stuff?”  
“I knows, but I really thoughts I could does it! Almost makes it too.” He saw that Charles was still frowning. “Okays, fine, I won’t tries again.”  
He turned to Murderface. “Was it at leasts cool?”  
“It wasch all messhy, scho yeah, it wasch pretty cool.”  
“Pfft no, dat was disgustings. Buts at least now we knows dat you has brains, even if you ams not using dem.”

The poor reporter lady was trying to comprehend what she was hearing. “He knows everything that happened? So he can’t be a clone... How is this even possible?”  
“It’sh pretty cool, ishn’t it? Watch thish!”  
“William, please don’t-“  
Too late. Murderface stuck his knife through his own throat. Grinning, he lay down on the floor, and kept staring at the reporter until he died.  
Charles called for a new one with a sigh. Randomly killing yourself when you wanted more attention simply wasn’t acceptable, but Murderface never listened.

The clearly unsettled lady was still staring at the corpse. “Aren’t... aren’t you going to have someone remove the body?”  
“No. He’ll want to see it, he always does.”  
As if on cue, Murderface walked into the room and went straight to his body. “Oh yeah, that’sh a good one.” Pointing to a gear, he ordered, “Hey you! Carry thish for me!”  
The ever obedient servant gathered up the body, and followed Murderface out of the room.  
Charles called after him, “Make sure you get rid of it before it starts to smell!”

The reporter stared after them. “What’s he going to... do with it?”  
“That’s a question I have never asked, because I really don’t want to know the answer.”  
“How often do they... die?”  
“Well, Murderface unfortunately quite often. With Toki it’s the occasional accident, and we rarely lose the others except for disasters while on tour. Come to think of it, Nathan’s never died, except on tour.”  
“Nots me eithers, except for dat one time you kills me.”  
The reporter turned to Charles with a look of absolute horror.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! He had a broken arm and they were scheduled to start touring in two days. He asked me to kill him so that he would be able to play.”  
“So you just killed him?!”  
“Ja, of courses he dids. I tells him to, can’ts be touring wit one arms. Pfft, no big deals.” He gave her a seductive look, “Heys, you wants to comes to my room?”  
“Skwisgaar.” Charles shook his head warningly.  
“Oh rights. Never minds den.” He wandered over to the couch to watch Toki and Nathan play video games.

She watched him go. “Well I guess this interview is over, although I’d love to schedule a follow up.”   
As she turned back to face Charles, he shot her right between the eyes. There was really no choice, her fate had been sealed from the second Pickles had burst into his office earlier.  
Motioning for a gear to dispose of the body, he turned th the others. “Toki, be more careful. Pickles, remember to just call, the next time somebody dies. This is all your fault you know.”  
Pickles waved that off, “Whatever.”  
Charles headed back to his office, he had a lot of work to do.


End file.
